


hiraeth

by thvlia (jveena)



Category: Hana Yori Dango | Boys Over Flowers (TV), 꽃보다 남자 | Boys Over Flowers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 04:11:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18886927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jveena/pseuds/thvlia
Summary: hiraeth - the meaning of missing a time, an era, or a person, including homesickness for what may not exist any longer.she's not sure what anything means anymore





	hiraeth

**Author's Note:**

> this is more of an influenced prose/poetry piece than a genuine alternate bad ending that i wrote in an extreme moment of passion and anger and sadness for jandi/tsukushi, because so many of the situations she was placed in were so hard to recover from. enjoy my emo hours whoops

hiraeth, she thinks  
when the noise of the washing machine resembles shaky breaths, and if she closes her eyes, resembles his shaky breath, she thinks, hiraeth. she passes by a man on the street, but his hair is too light and he is not tall enough. she grips the strap of her bag tighter to stop her twitching fingers, muscle memory of twisting soft curls ingrained into her, and thinks, hiraeth.  
he’s not a home, per say, but she always goes back to him. her mind wanders to absent thoughts and flutters to him like it always does, and amidst tears, she thinks, hiraeth.  
it’s her way of coping, she tells herself in the mirror. it’s my way of coping, she tells the mirror, because hiraeth means that he won’t come back again. was he ever here? and again, amidst tears, she thinks, hiraeth.  
she chants it, breathes the word in and out until she believes that he won’t come back. maybe, she tells the mirror, i’ll believe it someday. maybe, she tells the mirror, if i cannot forget, my mind will lock the memories away because they hurt me so much. she tells the girl in the mirror, the one with red eyes and slick cheeks, that it’s the placebo effect. she’ll believe it soon. it’ll be true soon.  
the people that know don’t ask. hiraeth, she thinks. hiraeth, she whispers, chants, and they do nothing but stare with pitying eyes.  
he’d promised, and she still has the promise. when whispering the word is not enough she clutches his promise in her hands and watches her tears fall on it, water drops catching in the cracks of the silver chain. she wears it around her neck everyday, and tells the mirror that she’s not crying because of it. she wears his promise, but it’s tucked under sweaters and jackets and scarves and when her fingers itch to rub it for comfort she clenches them and forces them to still.  
there is no one else. there is her and the mirror, and when she thinks, hiraeth, the mirror does too. when her heart hurts, the mirror cries for her, and the mirror has the pretty eyes he loves so much. the mirror has the girl he loved, the girl he promised. she is not that girl. she stops talking to the mirror.  
when they find her she is sitting in glass shards, and she is whispering.  
she was headstrong, she remembers, and confident. he liked that, she thinks, not having to reassure you. she’s not confident now. there are no more mirror girls, but she can tell without seeing them that she is a mess. if he ever comes back, she whispers, he won’t love this you. he won’t come back, she whispers, hiraeth.  
she sits and cries until she cannot breathe, until she feels dry and cracked and red and stretched taut and more broken than she ever was. she gets up and she leaves. she doesn’t know if she can come back.


End file.
